


pieces of a puzzle

by vesperthine



Series: future [3]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Relationship Issues, Sexual Frustration, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 06:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13607070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesperthine/pseuds/vesperthine
Summary: He doesn’t keep an exact count of how much time has passed. There’s a line, and it wouldn't have helped anyone if he'd become obsessed with it. So, he doesn’t.(That’s a lie. It’s been seventy-one – no, seventy-two days.)





	pieces of a puzzle

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [pusselbitar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13432260) by [vesperthine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesperthine/pseuds/vesperthine). 



> i usually don't translate stuff that's supposed to be skandi smut, but this one became a coda to another fic. and it filled me with some other ideas for this 'verse, and so a series was born! i hope you enjoy this translation that is only three weeks late (because _big bang_ is a lot of work!). but i thank you for your patience - this is to all of you ♡

It's the silence that startles him awake. 

Thirteen hours on winding roads, and a few hours of sleep makes it hard for the brain to understand how it can be this quiet. In Oslo, there are sounds everywhere. All the time. Cars, people, the snapping of the radiators. Complete silence registers as a danger, a threat.

A sign that something is off.

Even opens his eyes.

It’s grey. From the corner, a crack makes its way across the ceiling like a neuron. The sheets smell of linen closet, and the washed-out light of dawn filters in upon them. Upon the ancient dresser, the rag rugs on the floor, the empty side of the bed with the duvet hastily thrown to the side. 

The bed creaks when he turns to lie on his side. Squints at the watch on the chair turned bedside table. 04:03 am. He’d planned to wake Isak by cuddling up close. Wedge his knees into the hollows behind his, press his lips against the topmost knob of Isak's spine. Kiss down along his neck and let his fingers slip inside the hem of his shorts, form his hand around him.

Slowly rouse him from sleep; feel him come to life under his hands once more.

But naturally, Isak is nowhere to be found.

Neither is Navi.

Even throws his legs over the edge of the bed. Carefully moves his left shoulder; rolls away the aching stiffness that stubbornly lingers when he’s left it still for too long. Gets his circulation going again. The summer’s breeze making the mosquito net flutter is raw, filled with a promise of rain and it gives him goose bumps all along his arms.

Even gets dressed and heads out into the main room.

Across the cabin, the door to the girls’ room is ajar. Through the dark gap, he can see that they’re out cold still; Tove, curled up in the top bunk with her pillow in a death grip, and Sofie, Jonas’ and Eva’s daughter, sleeps like a starfish in the bottom bunk.

A thin foot sticks out from under the duvet, and her dark hair is like a halo against the pillow.

Even looks at them for a moment, the foster daughter and goddaughter that somehow befriended one another, before he closes the door all the way. Lets them sleep, spared from any insomniac tendencies.

The early morning light shining into the main room makes him squint while he rounds the couch to look out through the window facing the inland. It’s dotted with salt and rain. If he concentrates, he can hear waves rolling in over the cliffs. A half-emptied glass of water sits on the kitchen counter and draped over one of the kitchen chairs is Navi's leash.

But then, a movement in the corner of his eye; the open patio door, the mosquito net fluttering in the wind. And through the window: Isak’s silhouette is sepia black against the dim light.

He doesn’t even look up when Even steps out. Instead, he puts his arm on the back of the hammock where he’s sitting with a cup of coffee and Navi’s head in his lap. The big, wolfish mutt is sleeping soundly, so Even leans in over Isak’s lap to scratch behind her ear.

Old cigarette smoke wafting into his nose from the cushions, coupled with the pitter-patter of rain against the tin roof, reminds him of late summer nights.

Navi’s nose twitches in her sleep. In the corner of his eye, Isak’s mouth does the same.

“How long have you been out here for?”

Isak toys with the handle of his coffee mug. Puts it down with a grimace. “It was still pretty dark,” he says, smiling. “So, two hours perhaps. She came out not that long ago. Cuddle monster.”

Even continues to scratch Navi, and there’s a shiver going through her. The bushy tail swishes, and it’s enough to tickle him through his jeans. “Anything in particular?” he asks and looks at the mug with a motive of a Harriet Backer-painting. It’s really his mother’s, but Isak always uses it whenever they borrow the cabin.

“No, not really. Just the usual.” Isak’s voice is quiet, but not careful. He squints with one eye. Looks out over the water; the rain making momentary rings on the surface that disappears just as quickly. “Or, I think so at least.”

“Because of Sofie?” Isak nods, so Even continues. “Jonas and Eva let her come with because they trust us. And we’ve hiked that trail so many times.”

He puts his arm around him. And at once, Isak sinks downwards and inwards, as if all air leaves him.

“We’re just going to stay here. And relax. Goes for you too,” Even says, shakes him a little bit, and Isak laughs.

“We will. I just hope the girls won’t tire of each other. They’re in the same grade, but – if they started fighting now, I don’t know what Tove would do.”

Even shrugs and breathes out. It’s not as often as it was with Alma, but occasionally it becomes so clear what Isak’s never had; what he doesn’t see as obvious.

“Then we’ll just mediate. They’re thirteen, Isak – and she’s not all alone. It’ll be fine.”

“I guess it does,” Isak says, but drags his hand over his face. A bit tired, with his own head and the state of the world, but unlike before, he can let it go now. Let it run off him, compartmentalise it.

Without asking, Isak then shoves a hand into the pocket of Even’s jeans and pulls out the ask of snuff he keeps there. He tries to unscrew the lid but doesn’t manage to uncap it.

Even takes it from him but puts it back in his pocket. “That is supposed to take me through this week. I have seven portions left,” he says. “And the last time you tried it, you threw up.”

Isak sighs but doesn’t try to take it back again. “That was a long time ago.”

“And still you haven’t tried it since.”

He’s about to ostentatiously put a portion under his lip when Isak shuffles closer. Sinks down a bit, so that Even must take most of his weight. They breathe in sync while Isak pets Navi; digs his fingers into her salt-and-pepper fur.

“I just don’t want to be tired today,” he says, quietly, and rubs the bridge of his nose.

Then he looks up, eyes like black holes. Just as dark and with the same weight.

And once again, Even is hit by the landslide scale effect Isak has on him.

Twenty-one years later.

The kiss, when it happens, is soft. Isak’s lips are cold and he tastes of coffee and lack of sleep. Even combs his fingers through Isak’s hair, tips his face up – when Navi suddenly wakes up.

She whines when Isak doesn’t give her his undivided attention and nudges him until he let’s go of Even’s neck.

Reluctantly, Even pulls back while Isak sits up straight. Sighs. Looks on as Isak takes Navi’s head between his hands. Scratches her behind the ears as she lovingly nudges her nose against his chin.

And Even can’t help but watch them. Because even though Navi is the cause, it’s impossible not to watch as a slow smile spreads across Isak’s face; takes over land in his dark eyes and soften his mouth – it’ll always be something that makes Even stop in his tracks.

Because Isak is never more beautiful.

“There. Now, go inside, girl.”

One snap with his fingers towards the open patio door and Navi hops down from the hammock and trots inside. There’s a soft clicking noise of nails against the wooden floor, followed by a heavy, dog-like sigh when she curls up on the couch.

“You’ll get the hair off before we leave? Making sure mum can breathe when they want the cabin back?”

Isak slaps the back of his hand against his stomach. “Yes. Smartass.”

Even nips at his ear, causing Isak to make a murmuring noise in the back of his throat. He tips back his head; makes it easier to kiss down his jawline, over light stubble, further down his neck and breathes in the scent of Isak, blood and life. He forms his mouth around the carotid. Feels it throb, there, just below the thin skin - and Isak moans. Holds on to his thigh, and strokes with enough force for Even to feel it through the fabric of his jeans.

To remind him of how little it takes.

Remind him how much time has passed.

The hand on his thigh travels higher and Even breathes out. Something he’s deliberately suppressed starts to spread like a craving for nicotine throughout his body; it seeps through like water in a cracked river bed. Before he has the time to change his mind – before he starts overthinking if they can, if it’s even possible, if they should do it _here_ – he pulls Isak closer.

Isak’s fingers curl, kneads him through his jeans and _fuck_ it’s been a long time, nevermind the promises that it shouldn’t happen again, and Even has never felt himself react this quickly before –

He spreads his legs, lifts his feet from the worn wooden planks. On instinct, Isak tips his head back and turns so that he can kiss Even behind the ear. The movement, them, the magnetic force that pulls them closer, like opposing poles, makes the hammock rock.

And a high-pitched squeak cuts through the silence.

They fly apart. Isak takes hold of the windowsill behind them to make it stop. Then he sighs. Laughs, and shakes his head.

“We can’t stay here. Come on, let’s go to back to bed.”

Feeling his heartbeat in his toes, Even leans his head over the back of the backrest. Follows the spiderwebs that have gathered on the infrared heaters with his gaze, never mind that there's a throbbing like a jackhammer between his legs.

“No, it’ll wake the girls. The bed creaks too much.”

“Oh. What did you want to do?”

The hand is still on his thigh. Stroking his knee and then all way up, and down again; a thumb steady on the inseam.

Even puts his arms around Isak's neck. “I’d planned to make you come so hard you wouldn’t be able to stay still,” he breathes into Isak’s ear.

Beneath his arm, he can feel Isak shiver, and it feels like a victory.

Because it’s been a while. Longer than he’d ever thought it would. Between work, Navi, Tove every other weekend and everything that comes with her – meetings, handball matches, and picking her up after she’s been visiting her sister at the clinic for eating disorders – it’s been a while. They know it, had been prepared for it, despite trying to make it a priority.

Fleeting moments in the evenings, sometimes in the shower before work, a Saturday morning once in a while.

If they have the energy.

Now, it’s been two months. More. Tove’s sister’s latest relapse with severe anorexia and Isak’s halting research funding has made it all but impossible. They’ve gone straight to sleep as soon as possible each night. And even though they fall asleep in each other’s arms more often than not, sex has just not been on the table.

He doesn’t keep an exact count of how much time has passed. How many days it’s been since he saw Isak come with his own eyes, and not just heard it, muffled, through the bathroom wall. There’s a line, and it wouldn't have helped anyone if he'd become obsessed with it. So, he doesn’t.

(That’s a lie. It’s been seventy-one – no, seventy-two days.)

Yet, he knows that it would’ve gotten worse, established some odd form of a distancer-pursuer-like dynamic if he’d tried harder. He himself has had a more stable period as of late, but it hasn’t stopped the hurt from building in his chest from time to time. Made his fingertips prickle with a need that doesn’t feel like anything else. Like when Isak kissed him goodnight, but then, with a defeated sigh and something almost sad in his eyes, shook his head and turned off the light.

Left Even behind on the other side, in the light, and fallen asleep right away.

Now, Isak stands up. The hammock creaks, but the squeak from earlier is absent.

“Fuck it. Let’s do it in the car.”

He holds out his hand, and without a word, Even takes it. Stands up and gets pulled to his feet in equal measure. Manages to stick his feet into a pair of slippers before they run through the drizzle down the slippery path, not unlike two teenagers, to the car.

Out here, no one drives unless they know the way. Seclusion and silence in abundance. There’s nothing more to it than opening the door and fall into the backseat.

There’s not enough space for two grown men to lie down across it. Arms and legs go everywhere and Even feels like he must fold himself like an accordion to fit.

However, it doesn’t really matter.

He leans his shoulders against the opposite door, head against the window, and pulls his leg over Isak’s hip. Spreads his legs to make room, and Isak obeys. Comes closer and presses his body as close as possible. Wedges an arm under Even’s head, breathes heavily against his mouth while he rolls his hips in a steady, increasing rhythm.

The fabric of their jeans rub together, creating a soft sound.

Every thrust wakes something new, and it flickers like an aura of static around them. Isak pants against his neck and they don’t even have to communicate with words. It’s been seventy-two fucking days, and it’s like they’re dragged down under as if nothing exists but this – and them.

As if neither of them has understood the impact it’s had on them both.

With shaking hands, Isak unbuckles Even’s belt, unbuttons his fly, and touches him.

Isak is touching him again and Even feels the world stumble.

Leaning against him, Isak lets out an almost pained sound. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he sobs, and Even holds him. One arm around his shoulders, while the other finds its way down. Undoes the buttons – and Even feels how hard and hot Isak is against his palm.

Above him, Isak lets out a shaking breath. Touches his forehead against Even’s. Rubs their noses together because words are redundant.

The hand around him slows down, and instead, the kisses become the main thing; warm but heated. Isak’s tongue against his, so light, but heavier and heavier; taking the same route as his breathing. The smell of them and Isak surrounds him, his head wrapped in everything, and he barely has time to muffle his own moaning sigh against Isak’s mouth, but his hips thrust nonetheless.

Every little movement is amplified here. Every sound reverberates, reflects in and on itself; the rain against the windshield, his own pulse, Isak’s dry skin against his.

“Isak. Glove compartment.”

Isak’s head comes up. “You’ve put lube in the glove compartment?”

It makes him laugh. “No. But there’s a can of Vaseline in there.”

Without hesitation, Isak lies down between the seats and reaches for the glove compartment. The parking brake cuts into his ribs, and Even takes the weight off his aching shoulder to see what’s going on.

“You find it?”

A grunt is all he gets in reply; hears how Isak searches through owner certificates, dog treats and receipts. Looks how his shoulders move under the knitted sweater until they suddenly go still.

“Fuck – can you help me?”

Even can’t help but laugh. “Are you stuck?”

“No, absolutely not. Why would I ask for help otherwise?”

Still smiling, Even grabs him by the hips and pulls. They fall into their positions again; Isak red-faced, hair a mess with the Vaseline can in one hand. Boyish, despite pushing forty.

“Nicely done.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he says, quiet, but kisses Even still. Takes place between his legs again; one knee on the seat and his other foot somewhere under the passenger seat.

He uncaps the can with a twist, and when they’ve coated their fingers, he tosses it onto the hat shelf.

His jeans slip down his thighs, but Even still manages to hook his leg over Isak’s hip again, makes it easier to jerk each other off. The Vaseline is better than saliva, makes everything smoother and easier. It doesn’t compare to the feeling of Isak getting hard against the inside of his cheek, or watching the sweat break out across his shoulders as Even takes him from behind – but that doesn’t matter here.

Because he’s finally got Isak against him. Warm, alive and present; gasping and willing. With dark eyes and an energy that vibrates under his skin. And even though neither of them is prepared, he can still hear the small, almost whimpering sounds that Isak only makes when the sensations get so intense he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

His breaths are as fast as the blood pulsing through Even’s ears.

“I wish that you could fuck me now, Even. I really fucking do.”

Everything tightens a notch. Even pulls Isak closer still, circles his thumb the way he knows Isak loves it. But Isak doesn’t stop; jerks him faster, while those words keep pouring out of his mouth.

“I wish you could just pull me into your lap, open me up and just do it.”

Like a shock through his very skeleton. That’s what it feels like when he makes Isak shut up by kissing him again. Takes his top lip between his teeth, while reaching for the Vaseline on the hat shelf again.

It takes a while, so Isak looks up, confused when Even doesn’t cling to him like he usually does.

“What –”

When he’s coated his fingers in a new layer, he kisses Isak’s nose. “Can’t fuck you here. So, compromise,” he breathes, and then pulls down Isak’s jeans and underwear properly and pushes two fingers into him.

Looks on in awe as Isak’s face changes. How his eyes scrunch up. The little frown between his eyebrows. His mouth twisting into a small grimace, and the involuntary moan leaving him. Notices how easy it is to slip inside; that he hasn’t been wrong all those times he’s heard Isak in the shower.

Even just wants to keep looking at him; cause him to disintegrate with just fingers. But Isak’s hand suddenly starts up again, and it makes him lose his balance with every downstroke. That’s how sensitive he is. In return, he pushes his fingers a bit further in, immediately registering how Isak’s hand falters.

It'll never stop to amaze him; how Isak still can’t handle something so simple.

And he curls his fingers slightly.

“Even – “

Isak’s voice is a warning and a breathless sigh.

Even swallows and kisses his neck, at the same time he starts to curl his fingers in time with the thumb he’s spreading Isak’s pre-come with. “How do you want to come?”

At first, there’s no answer; Isak just hangs his head and the leg that is keeping him up is shaking uncontrollably. Then he lets out a just as shivering sigh.

“With you.”

“I’m not there yet.”

“Take it a bit easy with me, then.”

“Alright.”

He pulls back his fingers a bit and focuses on spreading them. And Isak bites back a whimper, hooks his arm around his neck again and jerks him off faster.

And Even kisses him back and closes his eyes. In the darkness behind his eyelids with only Isak’s gasping breaths, his small whimpering sounds, the smell of him and his warm, throbbing closeness for company, every sensation turns into spots of light that accumulate and spread like galaxies in time with Isak’s hand around him.

The back of his head hits the fogged-up window when he can’t hold his head up any longer, and there’s a sensation of something rushing down his spine. His vision narrows down, and Isak’s breaths against his mouth make every hair on his body stand up. It’s as if the entire universe is collapsing. Condenses into a single point – and right before he falls headlong, he pushes his fingers right _there_ to pull Isak down with him.

The arm around his neck tightens, and then he hears Isak make a high-pitched sound; a long, drawn-out thing against his mouth. And Even can’t keep his eyes open. Shockwaves pass through him, and the combination of Isak’s moans and the hand around his own pulsing erection is what taps him out.

In the same moment, three spasms pass through Isak’s body, as he comes all over Even’s hand.

Every spot of light in the point implodes, and the world is created once more.

As soon as the last shiver has passed through him, Isak’s leg gives up. He collapses, and just breathes against Even’s neck; plants several kisses there and nuzzles his nose against his carotid. Presses his mouth against his jawline repeatedly, while he holds him.

Even pushes his face into his blonde hair and breathes in.

They sit like that for a long time, until they’ve caught their breath. Outside, the rain has stopped and through the windshield, a fragile, golden light from the sunrise falls in. Isak tilts his head, and together they watch as the light cuts through the clouds and slants in; making small particles of dust dance on the dashboard.

Isak kisses him again. Quiet, light and filled with all the big words that lose their meaning if said too often. So Even takes it; brushes his thumb across Isak’s cheekbone instead, and knows that they’ve got each other.

Still.

When they can breathe normally again, Isak locates a toilet roll from the glove compartment. They wipe the worst from their hands, thank the gods that nothing’s smeared on the seats, and roll down the windows to let some air in. Isak combs both hands through Even’s hair, but he only manages to make it even messier than before. Not that it matters; the nails feel charged against his scalp.

The sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs makes itself reminded as they slowly walk back up towards the cabin. The wind is getting a hold of their clothes, and the ground makes squelching noises with every step.

“We need to do it more often.”

Even looks at Isak. “We’ll try and solve it. Plan it better, or something?”

Isak pulls him closer to his side. Smiles with the left half of his mouth. “A schedule, or what? Problem-solving in action. Can make a spreadsheet in Excel. Keep in the same file as my toxicology evaluations.”

It’s impossible to laugh at the absurdity. “No need to over-do it. But I miss you sometimes.”

It comes out louder than he wants it to, but quieter than it should.

The sun has made it over the roof ridge and it shines straight into Isak’s eyes. Causes him to squint, and his pupils to contract into needle heads.

“Yeah. I know. I miss you too.”

Isak strokes along his side while they go up the stairs. But before they step inside, they stop on the threshold. Helplessly drawn to each other again. Even drags his hands up along Isak’s back, twines his fingers in his hair as Isak pushes a leg in between his. And Even can feel the door jamb against his back, how his heart is beating harder again, spreading his heartbeat throughout his body, how he can’t get enough –

Until he catches the eye of Navi; lying on the couch and looking at him with a curious look.

He tries to ignore her, but she still jumps down to investigate what they’re doing. Which she does by pushing in between their knees; instantly killing the mood for good.

Isak lets go with a sigh and snaps his fingers. “Navi,” he says, sharply. “Not now.”

Navi turns and pulls back. Trots over to her water bowl, giving Even the same look as before. And Even doesn’t know when he started taking orders from her, but he picks it up and goes over to the sink.

The pipes cough and creak when he turns on the tap before clouded water starts to pour out, gradually clearing up.

“You know, I don’t think your dog wants us to have a sex life.”

Isak’s eyes become thin slits as he smiles. “ _Our_ dog gets thrown out of the bedroom every time, so maybe you’re right,” he says with a smirk and looks at Navi where she's waiting patiently for Even to be done. “Is that so, Navi? I can’t have sex with Even because you’re not allowed on the bed then?”

The lurcher mix yawns, causing Isak to cough out a short laugh. He puts down the bowl on the floor.

“In any case, she's still the reason we have one to speak of at all.”

“How so?”

Without answering, Isak comes up behind him. Lets his hands stroke over his hips, before he stands as close as physically possible, brushing his forehead against Even’s spine. “All those runs keep me fit and handsome.”

“Is that so.”

“What? You don’t find me good-looking anymore. Is it the hair?”

Even turns and bats away Isak’s hand just as it reaches his temple, where there indeed are some grey hairs. “Cut it out,” Even says, even though he can barely contain his laughter, and neither can Isak. “Stop fishing! You’re the most beautiful man I know.”

“This is also a funny thing. You tell me not to fish – “

Before he can finish the sentence, Even cups his face in his hands. Holds him still so that Isak can’t deflect his gaze while Even looks at him. His smile sinks back, but it’s replaced by something softer.

Something quiet and breathless, while his fingers play with the belt loops on Even’s jeans.

“Will always give you whatever you need or ask for, as long as I’m alive.”

Isak tips his head back and lets Even comb his fingers through his hair. “Me too. And Navi keeps you company whenever I can’t, so none of us will die prematurely either. You’ve got all the time in the world.”

The words are quiet, and entirely without humour. Even breathes out through his nose. “No, exactly.”

And when he kisses Isak again, he transfers all the authenticity he can muster. Isak’s mouth is so soft and malleable that it moulds itself after his without pause, and there’s something in that – how they fit like two pieces in a puzzle even after all this time and they always will – that reminds him of the deep-seated sense of safety that Isak evokes.

Still, they don’t let go of each other until the door to the girls' room clicks open.

 


End file.
